The Last Night
by Captain Ecks-Dee
Summary: It's never easy to find the wretch in your perfect machine. Yamamoto Takeshi x Genkishi.


**The Last Night**

**Disclaimer** I do not own KHR.

**Warnings** Angst, character death, out of character-ness, implied male x male relationships and other things you may or not approve of.

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Her touch was strangely warm – though shaken in his grasp. Or perhaps his hand was just cold and shaking.

The pale golden eyes did't move to find out, barely shift from the pristine white tiles under the expensive leather shoes. He couldn't bring himself to look at anyone or anything around him, to see the terrifying mixture of anger and hatred piled atop worry and regret on all of their faces. He had no right to be here – to sit among such kind and caring people who were on the verge of breaking, flinching at every sound of footsteps and looking up in horror and hope whenever someone would come near. These were the people who had been there all along, been the pillar of strength he had needed these past few weeks.

"Genkishi."

His eyes lifted at the sound of the voice, breaking him from the trance he hadn't realized he had fallen into. His head turned slowly, golden irises peering through the dark sheet of hair almost shamefully as her hand tightened on his. "Please," she started faintly, those big blue eyes shining sadly as she shifted in her chair, her free hand lifting from the arm rest between them to further envelope his hand in the warmth of her own, squeezing lightly. "Don't blame yourself," she pleaded, her voice near cracking as her hands curled further around his, her lip trembling, "please." Her head lowered slightly as she lifted her hands – his own caged within – to touch her lips to his knuckles, eyes closing in an attempt to stop the tears.

Something in his chest tightened at that, his hand shaking further as he turned away. He didn't deserve her comfort, her warm touch after everything he had done to an innocent man. The best thing that had ever happened to him. "I apologize," he managed faintly, voice soft and trembling, though he was suddenly aware of how loud it sounded in the crowded albeit quiet waiting room. "It is a burden I'll always wear," he continued, lifting his other hand to cover his eyes, head tilting forward to allow the ebony hair to fall in a protective, secretive curtain around his face, "if the worst happens." He felt the tears springing to the corner of his own eyes at the thought. The cold, bone-chilling thought of the other man dying.

There was a sudden touch, though, just as warm as the one curled around his hands. It brushed his shoulder in a smooth, even line across his shoulder in back. It was meant to comfort him further, to do what Uni was having no luck in doing. "Thank you," he breathed faintly in reply to the touch, not even bothering to glance away from the comforting shield of his hand to know who the source had been, "Tsunayoshi." Of all the others, it had been Uni and Tsunayoshi who had tried to comfort him, reassure him that even if the worst had happened, they would never blame him. He didn't deserve, he continued to tell himself, though, a thick, shaken breath falling from his lips as he continued to turn the situation and its possible outcomes over swiftly in his mind.

"Excuse me."

The reaction was instant – his head jerking up swiftly and his hand lowering from his eyes to fix his gaze on the tall man that had appeared – too silent, too swift – in the waiting room. Around him, varying murmurs of surprise and shock followed his greeting and Genkishi took it as a sign that none of the others had heard his approach. He pushed the thought away, eyes studying the man's expression as he stood, smoothing down his suit thoughtlessly as he felt his other hand shift with Uni's weight as she stood as well. Around him, the others rose nearly in unison, all of their expressions anxious, perhaps scared. "How," he managed after a few long seconds, suddenly too afraid to continue. His hand tightened on Uni's this time, a tremble rolling down his spine as his lips parted to continue speaking, mouth suddenly dry, his voice barely a whisper, "…how is he?"

The man straightened at that, lifting the clipboard tucked under his arm to study the information on it. He flipped a few papers, adjusting his glasses. His expression didn't change, though, seemingly frozen in an indifferent façade as his finger slid along the dark ink staining the ivory papers atop the clipboard. He hadn't been looking long at the papers, he knew, but the gap between every tick of the clock on the wall felt like hours, hours of waiting he wasn't sure he could bare any longer. Hadn't they waited long enough already? Been forced to endure the murderous drawl of time that separated the shrill scream of the heart monitor and this man's presence? "..Sir," Genkishi chanced after what couldn't have been more than two or three seconds, teeth sinking into the inside of his cheek. "Is he…"

Dark eyes lifted from the clipboard at that and a large hand reached, sliding the half-moon glasses from his face to set them down atop the clipboard. And finally, that delicately carved expression of indifference crumbled. His lips curled downward before parting, his words a fatal echo in the tense silence that choked the room, "I'm afraid Takeshi Yamamoto did not make it."

And just as suddenly as the man had spoken those terrifying words, the floodgate that had been the barrier holding back tears for many of those in the room fell. Genkishi's world crumbled in an instant, an icy river freezing his veins. It felt suddenly as if all the air had been stolen from his lungs, his heart ripped from his chest. Every emotion that he had bottled up in these past few hours trembled and then shattered, robbing him of any coherent thought. In the seconds that followed, all he could properly remember was how cold Uni's hand suddenly was in his iron grip and the icy tear that rolled down his cheek, shattering on the spotless flooring with such an intensity that he would have sworn the room had shaken.


End file.
